


L'Chaim! To Life!

by artsytarts



Series: Bond/Leiter One Shots [3]
Category: James Bond - All Media Types, James Bond - Ian Fleming
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hanukkah, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Jewish Character, Jewish Felix Leiter, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Slash, spoilers for On Her Majesty's Secret Service
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28037430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsytarts/pseuds/artsytarts
Summary: It was all fine and well for other people. But there was nothing “merry” or “happy” to Bond about this time of year. Not for a long while. Not ever since the ‘happiest time of the year’ had been steeped in tragedy for him.
Relationships: James Bond/Felix Leiter
Series: Bond/Leiter One Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058240
Comments: 22
Kudos: 14





	L'Chaim! To Life!

**Author's Note:**

> **TW: grief, trauma, PTSD-like symptoms, mention of character death**
> 
> **Spoilers for On Her Majesty's Secret Service**
> 
> This fic is based on the characters as they appear in Ian Fleming's books, but modern AU. Although really, you can imagine any Bond or Leiter you want.
> 
> Beta'd by Hexiva

It seemed to James Bond that the older he got, the earlier Christmas seemed to start. This year he had watched in dismay as the decorations in the shops and the twinkling lights inside windows and on balconies had started going up by the second week of November. _November_ , for God’s sake! Soon, the Christmas songs would be spilling out of every damn loudspeaker in the city of London and people would start wishing him a “Merry Christmas” and “a happy new year.” And then he’d be forced to smile and nod his thanks, even repeat it cheerfully back at them. It all made him want to sleep until February. Or find some sports bar (because the sports broadcasts meant that there would be no music) and get outrageously drunk. 

It was all fine and well for other people. But there was nothing “merry” or “happy” to Bond about this time of year. Not for a long while. Not ever since the ‘happiest time of the year’ had been steeped in tragedy for him… No. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to get sucked back into that dark pit. That was the thing about grief. People liked to repeat the old saying “Time heals all wounds”, when really, it didn’t. You just learned to cope with it. You filled your toolbox as best you could and kept it nearby until something inevitably broke down. And then you did your best to patch it all back up again. 

He looked round and stopped. In the window of a toy shop lay a display of all sorts of knick-knacks. The frame was hung with twigs, which were spray painted in white and hung with colourful baubles. A little white toy car with its hood down caught his attention. Suddenly, before his mind’s eye, he saw her.

Tracy, newly wedded and smiling happily, her hands gripping the steering wheel of her white Lancia convertible. Almost in slow-motion, he saw her hair whipping in the wind, the promise of a whole lifetime in her eyes. 

_“You see, We’ve got all the time in the world.”_

It lasted only for a moment. Bond managed to snap back to reality when he started to register the warning signs. The tightness in his chest, the sound of his pounding heart in his ears, his fists clenching and unclenching. “ _the body’s reaction to trauma,”_ the posh, matter-of-fact voice of his psychiatrist echoed in his head, “ _You must learn to manage your triggers_.” 

Bond tore his eyes away and forced himself to continue walking. He took in a deep breath through his nose and started counting. _One, two, three, four._ Then he held his breath for four more counts and slowly released it, still counting. Then he repeated the exercise and kept repeating it, focusing on the numbers and willing them to occupy his whole consciousness. Slowly, he felt himself calm down. 

Yes, there was a time and a place to think about these things. Out on the cold, windy London streets was not it. He briefly wondered if it was wise to go for another therapy appointment when his phone started buzzing. 

Relieved for the distraction, he pulled out his phone and unlocked it without checking the caller-ID. 

“Hello, Bond speaking,” he said. 

A familiar laugh tickled his ear from the other end of the line. “Damn James, you should use your professional voice on me more often. Sexy as hell.”

“Felix!” Bond exclaimed in genuine surprise and excitement. A huge grin spread on his face, despite the still lingering tension in his body. “I thought you weren’t due back in New York until December! What happened?”

“Well, we finished early. Damn stroke of luck, I can tell ya! Can’t talk about it over the phone, but there are some juicy details I can share once we see each other again. All smooth sailing from now on and no big jobs in the pipeline, so we’re all taking some time off in December. What about you, how’s old Universal been treating ya?”

“As a matter of fact, we’ve been having quite a flat period too. Mostly office work and not even a whiff of a job abroad. Seems like the powers that be are taking an extended break this year.” Almost as an afterthought, he added: “Unfortunately.” 

On the other end of the line, Felix hummed sympathetically. “Rough time, huh?” he asked. 

Bond sighed into the receiver. He couldn’t bring up the energy to pretend that things were all fine and dandy. And why should he? Felix had been there, through the worst of it. If anyone understood, it was him.

“To be quite frank, yes,” Bond said testily. “They’re already putting up the bloody decorations! Maybe I’ll volunteer for the skeleton crew over the holidays. Or I’ll escape to somewhere like Shanghai where they live by a different calendar. Or Jerusalem. Can’t do much about New Year’s with all the tourists, but Christmas can’t possibly be a big deal in Israel, right?”

“Actually, funny you should mention that! Don’t go making any plans just yet, James. I have a proposition you might wanna consider, provided your boss doesn’t send you out on some wild goose chase after all.”

“Oh, a _proposition_? Now who’s using the professional lingo on whom?”

“Shut up, you know you like it.” (This made Bond smile again) “Anyhoo, since we’ll both have more than enough time on our hands, how ‘bout you haul your ass over to _me_ in December instead of hiding out in the holy land and celebrate Hanukkah with my family in Houston? It’s high time you met my mom anyway. Guaranteed no Christmas cheer in our company.

Bond let it sink in for a moment. “I thought you said you didn’t celebrate any of the Jewish holidays anymore.”

“Had a change of heart. Also, mom asked. Can’t really say ‘no’ to a mom, can you?”

“Does she err… know? About us?”

“Yeah, finally told her. She called it even before I mentioned anything too! I was so damn scared, she thought I was gonna tell her I was terminally sick or something and then wouldn’t stop laughing and told me she’d guessed it ages ago. Because, and I quote: _‘No one yaps about anyone constantly if there ain’t nothin’ goin’ on’!_ ”

“Dear me, I must’ve occupied your every living moment!”

“For a while there you did! I had stuff to figure out. You don’t don’t seriously think springing a love confession on a poor yet-to-awaken bi guy like me wouldn’t leave an impact?”

“Not my fault you were blinded by societal norms.”

“Not my fault you’re a goddamn drama queen.”

His earlier troubles all but forgotten, Bond laughed heartily. The nerve! He told Felix so. 

“Where’s the lie here though?” was his answer. 

“For shame, Felix, you hurt my feelings!”

“Just ‘cause you’re my boyfriend doesn’t mean I need to be nice to you.”

“Do you not love me enough to at least grant me _some_ respect?”

“Depends. Are you coming to Houston or not?”

“Say you love me and I might think about it.”

“Okay.” Felix took a theatrically drawn-out breath at the other end of the line. “You love me. You love me a lot. And if you don’t come over here I’ll be disappointed and I know you can’t stand that.”

“Bloody cheek.”

“We call that chutzpah.”

Once again, Bond couldn’t hold his grin back. The warmth and affection blooming in his chest was almost intolerably lovely. He longed to hold Felix close, to breathe him in, to kiss him again and again and again. _Damn that man._

“I can hear you smiling,” Felix almost sang.

Bond let out a long breath to ease the longing tension. “Oh, all right. I was just playing hard to get,” he conceded. “Of course I’ll come, I’ve missed you like hell after all. Give me until tomorrow to sort things out with head office and I’ll be on my way. Though I must warn you, I don’t know a thing about Hanukkah. Not sure if that’ll leave the best impression on your mother.”

“Well, first of all it’s _‘Chanukkah’_. With a _‘KH’._ Second of all, don’t worry, I’ll teach ya all you need to know. Imagine how happy she’ll be with you if you already know what to do!”

“I think she’ll be more impressed that _you_ were the one teaching me, seeing how you don’t keep any of the other holidays.”

“Hey, don’t call me out like that!”


End file.
